Echoes of Destiny One: The Fog of War
by LaSemeuse
Summary: AU. The Federation is at war with the Romulans. The Enterprise is called to aid Aeron V, where we find Beverly Howard and Jack Crusher. Early PC. Will history repeat itself? Story now complete.
1. One

Disclaimer: Paramount is the omnipotent and loathsome owner and God of this A/U and all others. Ah, but if only, like Q, they had a quirky sense of humor and a secret soft spot for us, the mere mortals.

* * *

Author's Note

Somehow I caught a wild hair and decided to set up this little A/U trilogy (aren't I ambitious). At some point in the distant future they're going to loop back in to the "real" TNG timeline, in what I hope will also be the thrilling conclusion to the "Magicians" chronicle, which will end with this fabled last crossover story (it's going to be a whopper – let's hope life is kind to me and I can get it out). Beverly does not serve on the Enterprise or currently exist in Jean-Luc's life in this A/U / war timeline. We see Beverly's life here as affected by this war / reality and in another place in the Federation. This is time as it would be if "Anna Young" (our villain from Magicians / Canaan) succeeded in her mission to stop Beverly and Jack's marriage, and a reality where that success were possible. Time in this story started changing for our heroes from the point at which Anna disrupted the Jack / Beverly reality and Wesley was not born/dies. This is the result.

* * *

Echoes of Destiny

Episode One

The Fog of War

One

* * *

Jean-Luc Picard knew it was going to be a bad day as soon as he awoke. Exactly how bad it might be he could not anticipate. But it was there as soon as he opened his eyes. That slow feeling in his gut. A sense that even before his feet hit the floor, things in his life had moved past him. He sent up a plea that there would be no crises today. On days like this, crewmembers came back from missions dead.

Quickly he slipped on a pair of standard running shorts and t-shirt. Over this he donned athletic pants and a sweatshirt. A brisk run would help him clear his mind. If nothing else he might lose that feeling that he was one step behind – that awful slowness that fogged his mind. He felt it more often these days. As he approached mid life, it fell upon him with more regularity – and it was always disturbing. A run, a good strong cup of Welsh Morning and a review of his day would go far to bring him back to center. Again, though, he hoped there would be no crises onboard before he lay back down that night.

Distracted, he walked out of his cabin and straight into a Lieutenant from exobotany. Petite, the woman staggered backwards and would have fallen if it had not been for the bulkhead. Picard apologized profusely, as did the woman. He laid his hand on her shoulder as he did so, his face a mask of concern until he caught her smiling. His frown broke and he too grinned. After a brief exchange and another assurance that he had not done any damage, he moved on, shaking his head.

Consumed by thoughts of daily duties, he missed his stop on the lift. A young ensign who had boarded smiled nervously and coughed, breaking the Captain's reverie. He scowled when he realized what had happened, and tersely ordered the lift back to mid-ship. This was ridiculous. He tapped his communicator. "Picard to Riker."

"Riker here sir, what can I do for you?" The Commander was still on the bridge, having taken the swing shift the night before.

Picard hated to do it, but he would not put his crew in a compromised position simply because he could not get it together. They were at war, for gods' sake.

"Number One, I need some extra time this morning. Can you please give me another two hours on the bridge?" Picard's tone was commanding, but not hard. His whole crew had given so much in these past months. It was an order, but it was also a favor.

"Absolutely, Captain. Take your time." Standing as he spoke, Riker surveyed the bridge crew that was on with him. They'd all been on since early that morning. They were tired. He signed off with Picard. "You heard him. Two more hours." Since the war with the Romulans had begun, Starfleet had changed rotation of the duty rosters. Now, crews worked in set teams instead of randomly assigned shifts. It had been an adjustment, but no one had complained. In fact, the system was working well.

Riker met each set of eyes on his team, his own twinkling with mischief. "I think that means we have time for one more drill." His dark beard broke in two, split by a set of shining white teeth. It was challenged with groans and smiles from the front and the back of the bridge. Riker chuckled.

"You heard me. Let's go." He turned to Mikulski, a stout woman serving under Worf, one of the few women and humans the Klingon fully trusted. "Load up the Kobayashi-Maru, Bean."

More groans. A wry Vulcan at opps. turned and cracked a rare joke. "Surely a scenario we're likely to encounter." It wasn't much, but Riker appreciated it nonetheless. Strictly speaking, Vulcans didn't make jokes. But Timor had been known to break from his heritage in that regard on several occasions – and the Commander had noticed.

Twenty minutes later, they were still fighting. Riker had lost half the crew, and two bridge officers, but the Enterprise was still in one piece – and they'd taken out half a dozen enemy warships. But this seventh was wicked. There would be no beating it. Their phaser banks were empty, and they were out of torpedoes. There wasn't even enough left in the damaged warp core to back away and strategize. Riker used the last option available. "Mikulski, I need a distraction. I need you to blind them – sensors and all – for at least 5 seconds. I need it now." Perspiring slightly, he turned and fixed steely blue eyes on the woman. She met them with even blue eyes of her own and nodded. While Riker consulted with the officer at conn., she turned to a tactical officer at the back of the bridge. "Timor, I'm feeding you a set of coordinates. On Mikulski's mark, I want all the speed you can get." The Vulcan nodded gravely as the numbers scrolled over his panel.

A few tense moments passed, and Riker turned aft. "Time's up. Have you got it, Bean?" She nodded her head. Riker turned back to the front. "All right. Conn – on Mikulski's mark, engage course." Suddenly, Riker grabbed the arms of the Captain's chair as the ship rocked under another volley from the massive warship in front of them. Sensors told them another was closing fast. In the eerie, pulsing red glow of the emergency lighting, Will Riker read the tension in the muscles and faces of his crew. Drill or not, they all knew the stakes. Despite Timor's earlier comment, each knew the situation was not so far-fetched. The Federation wasn't winning the war. The Klingon forces were dwindling, as were those of the rest of their allies. The uncomfortable role of underdog was now familiar.

Mikulski piped up from the back. "4 seconds sir." Time crept slowly by. "OK! Their sensors are offline. Now!"

Riker gripped the arms even tighter and raised his voice. "Brace for impact." Given their trajectory is was an absurd order.

The ship surged forward and directly into the engineering section of the Bird of Prey. A brilliant burst of light filled the forward view screen as both ships exploded as the warp core of the Warbird was compromised. Then, for a moment the bridge was black. Finally they all blinked as the lights came back up to normal day levels. The bridge was filled with a heavy, stunned silence.

Riker stood, his face stern but proud. "Well done everyone. We beat our best time by at least 5 minutes. And you never know what can happen in 5 minutes." He met each of their eyes in turn. It was a hard drill, a mental challenge as much as anything – enduring and fighting in a situation you know will end in your death – a situation that by its very existence screams to you that you are all too mortal, too fragile. He knew they were tired going in. And he knew that when the time came for the Enterprise, they might be even more tired. Maybe exhausted – and they would be called to perform.

"Picard's team will give us an extra hour tomorrow morning. Use it well – get some rest." His tone was again praising but somber. The team nodded and returned to work, reviewing the immediate past and evaluating what they might have done better – where they might have saved time or resources. They would review now, while they were still running on adrenaline, and also later that day in the sober confines of their quarters. Research and exploration were a thing of the past. War had replaced these in the minds of the entire crew, including the Captain.

It was a weary crew that greeted Picard as he stepped on the bridge an hour later, his eyes bright and slightly red at the edges. He stalked down the ramp to the fore and lay his hand on the wide shoulders of Will Riker. "Anything to report, Commander?"

Riker stood to address the Captain. "Only that this is the finest crew I've ever served with, sir." His tone was dead serious, only his eyes betraying the joviality of his mood. For five years they had labored under the yoke of war and its constant sense of impending doom. As a leader on the Enterprise, it was his job to make sure it didn't break them. If the Romulans were to destroy the Federation, it would not be a psychological victory – not if Will Riker had anything to say about it.

"I agree Will, I agree." Picard walked forward and stood directly in front of Riker. Despite the dissimilarity in stature, there was no doubt who was in command. "It's as much a credit to you as anything."

Riker tipped his head to the Captain and smiled. "We'll see you at 0800 tomorrow morning, then sir."

A grin curled Picard's lip. "It's the least I can do, Will. Try and stay out of trouble until then."

Riker clapped Picard on the arm and walked toward the aft lift, his team already headed out as Picard's came on to relieve them. They hadn't lost anyone that day during their 8 hours on the bridge – and with that knowledge all of them would sleep well that nite.

* * *

Doctor Beverly Howard yanked her long red hair into a rough ponytail and swept a few errant strands behind her ears, dragging blood through it as she did so. She hardly noticed, as it was already caked in mud.

Rain pounded the roof of the emergency shelter, her world damp and close because the air conditioning unit had broken down three days ago. Thanks to sturdy standard issue boots, her feet were still dry, though the floor was covered in an inch of water. Before her a young man writhed in agony as she did what she could do to heal the severe burns covering his body. Just moments ago she had delicately cut away his burgundy tunic as he screamed, the fabric seared to his skin. Well, it had seemed burgundy to her. In fact he was a security officer, his mustard yellow uniform so soaked in blood that the color was completely camouflaged. Phaser burns made a patchwork of his torso. His injuries were painful, but not as severe as others.' She ran a gentle cooling hand over his forehead and injected him with a very mild sedative.

Beverly nodded to a nurse cataloging supplies nearby, a rugged, dark young Klingon who hustled over immediately to continue the skin regeneration process. Though the officer's wounds were not yet life threatening, they would be if infection set in. And their field hospital was far from sterile.

On the next bed lay a young girl. Howard ran a tricorder over the tiny still form and frowned. Her signs were otherwise stable, but her blood pressure was steadily dropping. She fingered the blond curls that clung to the porcelain skin of her damp cheek. The girl's fever still had not broken, despite their best efforts and more attention being paid to the child than they could afford. They had medicated her as much as possible without risking further damage to her heart and brain tissue, but it was likely she would not recover. Beverly sighed and snapped shut the tricorder.

She looked up over the sea of injured Federation crewmembers. They were the casualties of the front line, an anachronism in 24th century warfare. But the Federation was desperate to hold three or four key planets near the neutral zone and in other strategic sectors. They did not have the firepower necessary in ships, and that meant doing things the old-fashioned way – the hard way. Violent, ugly, hand to hand combat. Howard was a medical mercenary, shipped from planet to planet on whatever wrecks she could secure passage. Gone were the days of errands of mercy – the Federation got their medical personnel where they were needed with crafty, dodgy smugglers. The Romulans held a blockade over Aeron V, where she currently struggled to keep troops fighting as long as they could stand and hold a phaser or grenade. Now they were running low on supplies. She prayed the next shipment would get through soon. Her stomach growled. It was best not think about food.

Suddenly alarms rang out from the dimmed ICU. Currently there were 5 occupants, but Beverly knew who was crashing. A woman had been admitted early that afternoon. Almost Beverly's age, she was a Lieutenant Commander, second in charge of the field for the continent the Federation held. She had been out with her soldiers, fighting back an incursion over a remote mountain passage. They had successfully beaten it back, and were done with major combat when a Romulan suicide bomber in their custody detonated a small personal explosive. Lieutenant Commander Paul had been closest, her injuries the most severe. Her team had rushed her to the field hospital immediately, using an unauthorized and unfortunate amount of reserve power on the emergency transport. It was only because of that that the woman had lasted this long. It was likely the power sacrifice would be futile – Paul's injuries were beyond reason.

Tears streaked Beverly's face as she worked on Ellie, though she paid little attention. She cried a lot lately, so much that it was like breathing when she did. She and Paul had become fast friends – there weren't many senior women in their position, and they were the only two female ranking officers on the planet. They had given up family and friends to serve in the war, both driven by their belief in the future of the Federation. Learning about Ellie's life and sharing stories over bad coffee in front of weak firelight was what Beverly remembered as she watched her friend die. Finally, it was enough. It was time to let Ellie go, to have some peace.

"Time of death 03:27." She wiped her face with a dirty sleeve and stepped back. She shut Lieutenant Commander Paul's eyes and pulled a sheet over the body. She turned and stalked through the hospital, out into the lonely, murky moonlight. Breathing deeply, she lifted her head to the sky and let the rain mingle with her tears.

* * *


	2. Two

Echoes of Destinay - The Fog of War

Two

* * *

"Acknowledged Admiral. We'll head out immediately." Picard snapped the terminal in his ready room shut and rose briskly, tugging sharply on his tunic bottom as he did so. The Enterprise had been called away from patrol of the neutral zone for a quick relief mission to a strategic target across the sector.

As he walked out onto the bridge he tapped his communicator. "Picard to sickbay."

"Yes sir, what can I do for you?" Picard was answered by the harried but even tones of Doctor Nina Stewart. She was seventy, spry, and ran her department with machine-like precision. A veteran of the Federation and the war, she had stepped down from an Admiralty in the medical division to coordinate Starfleet's relief program from the Enterprise.

"We are proceeding to Aeron V immediately to refresh their medical staff and supplies. We'll be there in approximately 18 hours – I need you to have a relief rotation and to fulfill the manifest for their field hospital, which will arrive shortly from Starfleet Command." His tone was stern but solicitous. It was a lot to ask, but he was perfectly assured Doctor Stewart would have everything necessary – and before they arrived. And if she didn't – well, she outranked him. A grin twitched at the corner of his mouth.

"Very well Captain. We'll be ready." Her tone was calm and confident. "By the way Jean-Luc, who's leading the medical effort there?" He heard a clatter of pads in the background and a muffled "Damn it."

He could not hide his amusement as he responded. "Doctor Beverly Howard. She's been there for 9 months now. Apparently she's quite capable." Picard took his seat at the center of the bridge and nodded to Riker.

Nina chirped back quickly. "More than capable, Captain. She's one of our finest. I'll be glad to help her out. The situation there must be rather dire if Starfleet's kept her there that long." More clattering pads and an exasperated sigh.

"I'll see you in 18 hours, Doctor. I trust you'll have your files under control by then." Picard made eye contact with a smiling Riker and raised an eyebrow.

"You bet your ass I will Picard. Now wipe that smirk off your face. And tell Riker he's late for his physical therapy." She snapped at them good-naturedly. "Three weeks late. Stewart out."

Both men chuckled. Riker's tenor changed and he gazed at the Captain evenly. "We're lucky to have her sir."

Picard nodded solemnly. They had lost their first CMO in a skirmish two years ago, a pointless one at that. She was young, smart as a whip, and loved by every member of the crew. Her loss had been a setback for the ship – but Stewart had stepped in fearlessly and healed a lot more than broken bones. Of course they'd seen a lot of their colleagues fall. Friendships on the Enterprise were tentative and fleeting at best. They were intentionally kept casual – death and reassignment were all too familiar. Those relationships that were deep and lasting – like the one between Jean-Luc Picard and Will Riker – were priceless.

Picard laid a hand on Riker's arm and nodded. He turned to the aft of the bridge to the commanding blonde security chief. "Lieutenant Yar – I need a full tactical analysis and plan of attack for Aeron V. I get the feeling that the Florence Nightengale routine won't hold much weight with the Romulans. We've got the Roosevelt en route to provide cover, but we'll need to be cagey."

"Aye aye sir. We'll get right on it." Tasha turned to Lieutenant Worf at tactical and inclined her head. He stepped up to her conn and began downloading schematics. "The new cloaking system is still experimental, but it may be just what we need." Her expression belied her distraction as she began calculating strategy.

A year ago Starfleet operatives had cracked the encoding on a salvaged Warbird and begun to develop their own cloaking systems. As Yar had indicated it was still imperfect – but ships across the fleet had been using it with some success.

"Coordinate with LaForge and see that it works. We're not taking any chances." Picard's tone was deadly serious.

"Understood sir. We'll have a solution for you." Tasha stood rigid, her posture assured. She bent her head and began coordinating with Worf. In a moment they turned and walked to the lift, headed to engineering to conference with Commander LaForge.

Riker turned to Picard. "How many Romulan ships running the blockade at Aeron V?"

Picard looked up from the study of his padd and adopted a stern expression. "As many as four. Two Warbirds and two scout ships that patrol the entire Aeron system."

Riker whistled. "Some odds."

"Commander Crusher is on the ground there. He's promised us a worthy distraction." Picard's air changed and his tone lightened.

Will's eyebrows shot up. "Jack will be there? Well then. We're sure to have quite a time." Riker's twinkling eyes met Picard's and he inclined his head.

Picard tugged at his uniform and gave Riker a sardonic nod. "If we're lucky one of the scouts will be out on patrol in another part of the sector."

Riker glanced around at the men and women on the bridge. "Let's hope we're lucky today."

* * *

"I don't care what the hell they told you at the Academy," Beverly Howard yelled at a young ensign. "Get the laser scalpel and get moving. Now!" She regretted her harsh tone and the frightened look in the young woman's eyes, but they didn't have time to waste, and they didn't have time for Starfleet protocol. She'd gotten the encoded communiqué last nite – apparently the cavalry was on the way. Well, they'd better be here on time. Pretty soon she'd be treating patients with standard issue duct tape and paper towels.

Doctor Howard impatiently snapped shut her tricorder and handed it to her attendant, who had been administering a hypospray to their current patient. "Jeannie, you know where I'll be." The petite, dark headed woman, a little older than Beverly, had been with her for two years now. Howard made it clear – where she went, Jeannie went. Their friendship was one of the only things either woman could call her own.

Beverly glanced at the chronometer on the wall. Half an hour before the next CO meeting. Enough time for a sandwich and a walk. She opened the door to the medical shelter and winced at the bright sunlight, instinctively shading her eyes. She continued forward and ran smack into Jack Crusher, the Commander in charge of ground operations at Aeron V.

"Excuse me Beverly, I'll have to be more careful." He quickly grabbed her arm as she staggered backward. She gave him a sharp look, but smiled readily when she saw his mischievous expression.

"Watch it Crusher. I'm a valuable commodity in these parts. At least as long as the gauze bandages hold out." She blinked back the sun as her eyes adjusted and looked up to meet his gaze.

"Apparently then you've nothing to worry about Doctor Howard. We've got fresh supplies on the way. Your wish, after all, is my command." He grinned and gave a slight bow.

"As you were, Commander." She smirked up at him. He'd been posted to Aeron V for only a bit longer than she had. It was to his credit the Fleet was doing as well as they were – they were completely outnumbered and outgunned – but certainly not outsmarted.

He chuckled. "Seriously, Doctor Howard. I do want to thank you for your work here. I know we've been keeping you on your toes. Bandages or not, you are a valuable addition to the team."

"Thank you Commander Crusher. I'll see you at the meeting." She suddenly felt fidgety. She nodded deferentially and began to walk away.

Before she did Crusher caught her arm. "Doctor Howard, uh, Beverly." His brown eyes, so often haunted and distant, were now uncertain and hopeful. And trained on her light blue eyes, curious and alert. "I'm wondering if you're free for dinner tonite. This," he swept his arm across the dreary grey vista of the camp, "is getting to me. I need some time to think about something else. And I've always enjoyed talking to you, though we haven't really had much a of a chance."

She looked down at his hand on her arm, and he self-consciously moved it back to his side, a glimmer of disappointment in his expression. She gave him an open, reassuring smile and responded. "That would be nice, Jack. I've been feeling the same way lately."

He smiled back evenly. "All right then. Unless something comes up, let's meet at 1900 hours at the mess. We can pick something up and head for the lake. It's supposed to be warm this evening."

She nodded and began walking off again. If she didn't get moving she wouldn't have time to grab lunch. She called back to him over her shoulder. "See you then, Commander."

Jack stood, rooted to his spot for a moment staring after her before turning and heading into the mobile command shelter next to medical.

* * *

Lightyears away, a tall, raven-haired woman stopped abruptly in a marketplace and turned her head to the sky. A man walking closely behind her ran into her and fell backwards, though the woman appeared to take no notice. Feeling unexplainably horrified, he crawled to his feet and scurried away. In a moment he would be sick, his stomach wracked with wrenching cramps. After that he would remember nothing of the incident, and simply wonder how he ended up so far from his original destination.

But as all this occurred the dark woman remained motionless, her brow furrowed and her frame rigid. Passers-by gave her a wide berth and averted their eyes as they did, many of them unconsciously silencing their conversations.

In just another moment there was an intense flash and a pop, and the woman was gone. No one seemed to notice, but it was almost ten minutes before anyone on the crowded street tread on the spot where she had been standing.

* * *


	3. Three

The Fog of War

Three

Beverly sat absently staring at the lake, ruminating over her half-eaten chicken salad sandwich. It tasted the same as the tuna she'd had yesterday, and the turkey from the day previous. She'd never acquired a taste for anything non-Terran in origin, try as she might. So many things had been so hard after Arveda, and eating the food she'd grown up with made her feel somehow closer to the family that had been so brutally taken from her.

She worried that the Federation might soon be gone too. It was her only family, one that she had been devoted too for decades, ever since childhood. But a lot of officers were considering leaving, migrating to remote parts of the galaxy with their families in hopes of escaping Romulan rule. It felt cowardly to her, but in her heart she yearned for stability. She longed for the security of a partner and children. She hoped the war would make up her mind for her.

There was now another Romulan offensive on the western front of the continent at Aeron V. She paid close attention to the military maneuvers in order to prepare her teams for surges in casualties – and there had been a lot lately. She met weekly with the strategic command team, and it wasn't just the haunted look in their eyes that told her things were not going well. Troops were deployed in an aggressive defensive pattern around the farthest perimeters of the region – but they were losing ground - foot by foot, battle by battle, and life by life. The Fleet lines of defense were constricting rapidly - which was good because there were fewer and fewer officers to hold them.

In the six months she'd been on the ground she had been on almost 50 recovery missions, always bringing back more dead than alive. They were losing on Aeron V. One way or another she would not see a year at this post. Either she would be killed or they would lose the planet. She supposed it wasn't very noble, but she hoped it would be the latter. It wasn't very noble because Starfleet couldn't really afford the loss. Describing the war as a tie was generous at best. It was technically true that the Fleet and the Romulans held approximately the same number of disputed planets. But a lot more of them looked strategically like Aeron V. Starfleet was outnumbered, and Aeron V was likely to be the first in a rapid succession of losses for the Federation. After the Romulans had won the ground war, they would be able to turn their Warbirds on the beleaguered Federation fleet. And after that – well, Beverly didn't want to think about what would happen after that.

She looked down at the bedraggled remains of her lunch and wrapped it back up. She would save it for tomorrow. Maybe it would get better with age. She knew Jack Crusher had.

"I'm confident we can hold the cloak sir. The problem will be beaming on and off the planet. We'd need to de-cloak to make the transport." Yar clicked off the monitor at the head of the observation lounge and regained her seat at Picard's right hand. "It doesn't help that the Roosevelt has been re-diverted."

On his left Chief Engineer Geordi La Forge chimed in. "There's a chance we could outfit a shuttle with a cloaking device, but that would be quite risky." His tone didn't convey confidence. "There's a possibility that the cloak would interact with the planet's atmosphere. And at that point the shuttle's a sitting duck."

"And the Romulan's ears perk right up," Commander Riker added glumly.

At the head of the briefing table Picard stood. "However you do it, figure it out. You've got 24 hours." He glanced sternly at his officers. "Those officers need our help."

"Aye sir." The tactical team stood and filed out of the conference room.

Beverly and Jack had only been a few years apart at the Academy, though he hadn't known it. His head was already in the stars, or turned around by the latest pretty young girl to cross his path. Beverly had noticed him occasionally, it was hard not to. He'd been the top of his class in everything. And the command kids were the star of the show as far as the Federation was concerned. Jack had always been palling around with this particular commander – a captain now, but a commander at the time. Beverly had not known his name, but the two of them together had been a force, a compelling one to her. They were easy to spot on campus, walking brazenly in the center of every path, with the expected gaggle of young cadets following behind. Cadet Howard had always thought them pathetic, but had acknowledged that there was something about the pair.

But she had been far too concerned with her studies and far too introverted to give either the time of day, had they even asked. They had spoken briefly once at the Quarterdeck bar near campus one evening. She had been standing at the bar and Jack had turned to ask her name. She'd responded and he'd smiled - but he was suddenly tapped on the shoulder by a willowy older woman with long, dark hair. She was quite forward in her advances, and Beverly was long gone by the time Jack turned back to finish their conversation.

"Tell the Central Command that I want 5,000 more troops for the front. We can spare them, and I'm tired of playing around with these Federation dogs. We will take Aeron V, and there will be no one left here to resist after we do. We will spare neither civilians nor Federation troops. We will take this mud hole of a planet, and we will move on with finishing this war once and for all."

"Yes Commander R'Nau." The young male, soft in his countenance for a Romulan, bent slightly and hastily retreated from the room. The imposing older woman had suddenly deposed the previous Commander at Aeron V only days ago, and had made drastic strategic changes since. Their casualties were staggering, but they had quickly captured several battle fronts that had been contested for months. She was tall and very thin for a Romulan, and refused to wear her dark hair at standard length. In contrast to her very masculine bearing, her delicate features and long black hair softened her stature. But they did nothing to diminish her unquestioned authority.

R'Nau smiled primly and turned to the display on the wall. Federation forces glowed in blue and Romulan in green against a midnight black background. Her eyes flashed deep violet, then blue and green before finally darkening to a black that matched the display. By her estimates an additional 5,000 Romulan troops would crush the Federation within a week. The re-deployment from other planets might cost the Empire slightly, but she did not care. Her one concern was the imminent demise of Jack Crusher. He was a cocky one, and would never think of abandoning his troops on the front line. He would stand and fight until the last, and die in obscurity. And most importantly, he would die without ever fulfilling the budding relationship with Beverly Howard. That was, of course, only if everything went according to plan. And she was far too old to think that they would. Already she was devising an alternate strategy.

A cool mist settled over the lake as Jack and Beverly sat to eat. She shivered slightly and pulled her coat tightly around her. The sun was setting over the western edge of the water. Despite the chill the evening was still comfortably warm – warm enough to enjoy a quick dinner with the Commander.

"You and I were together at the Academy? It's hard to think we wouldn't have met. I can't believe I don't remember you." Jack took a large bite of his meatloaf, chewed and waited for her response.

"I was very studious. And you seemed quite," she raised a brow and fixed with a steady gaze, "distracted. By other cadets and by that commander you were always with."

Jack laughed heartily and easily. He was a compelling man – even more so like this, when the weight of his responsibilities seemed absent. Beverly found that she felt for him in a way that she had not felt for anyone in many, many years.

Jack cast his mind back through the years to his days at the Academy – they were thrilling. He had looked forward to his service, spirits unhampered by the death of hundreds of friends and colleagues. War was a specter that filled him with an undefined fear, but also a thrill of excitement. He would be tested, and his entire body had tingled with anticipation. The drinking and the women were tools he used to keep his anticipation at bay – they were substitutes for the real rush he knew awaited him.

"I was a different man then, Doctor. I was a boy. And it could have been a lot worse if it weren't for Jean-Luc Picard." He smiled ruefully.

"That was the man you were with so often?" Crusher nodded at Beverly's question. "What happened to him?"

Jack looked up and pointed to the sky. "I think he's in orbit right now."

"He's the Captain of the Enterprise?" Beverly couldn't say she wasn't impressed. First that Picard was still alive, and second that he was Captain of the Federation's flagship. Maybe there was more to Jack Crusher than she'd thought.

Crusher set down his fork and laid his hand on Howard's. It was a bold move, but neither of them had time to indulge in romance. An invitation to dinner was an invitation to something more – and both knew it. "Beverly, I think you can understand how much a man can change in 20 years. Especially when it's 20 years like this." He tilted his head toward the camp.

She met his gaze and nodded. "Sometimes I don't recognize myself in the mirror. My grandmother's hair was fire red until she was almost 90. Mine is already streaked with white."

Crusher passed a hand near her cheek. "Well, it suits you." He smiled confidently as he did so.

"Still smooth as ever, it seems." Howard pulled her hand back from the table and crossed her arms. But she smiled back openly.


	4. Four

The Fog of War

Four

* * *

"Both scouts are currently out on patrol in distant parts of the sector. We can drop our shields for at least 10 seconds before they get a lock. That gives us time to beam down half the supplies." LaForge turned to Yar, who turned her attention to the rest of the senior crew and continued the briefing.

"If the Warbirds are engaged, I'd say our window goes up to 20 seconds. We can repeat the maneuver once, but after that the odds change. They'll be looking for us, and once they get our signature, I don't think our cloak will be foolproof." Yar sighed and sat down.

"Then we're going to rely on Jack to keep those Warbirds distracted. Starfleet has sent us a very precise timeline for the operation. Let's make the best of it, shall we?" Picard raised his eyebrow and turned his attention to each of his officers before rising.

"Dismissed."

* * *

"Commander R'Nau. There is a large disturbance on the Western front. Our field captains are asking for assistance."

"What kind of disturbance?" R'Nau turned from her study of the stars.

"The Federation has diverted forces from other theaters. If we move now, we may be able to defeat them and take the planet. But we must move now, Commander."

R'Nau stood abruptly. As she did a cup of tea beside her toppled and smashed on the floor. "You would not presume to speak for me, nor to divine strategy for our forces." She walked purposefully to where the Lieutenant had entered her chamber. She paused in front of him, and then slowly circled. "We will wait. Tomorrow 2,500 troops are to arrive from Romulus. When they do, we will strike. The day after, another 2,500." She stood again in front of the boy and slowly clenched her fist. "And then we will crush them."

"Yes sir. Is that all, sir?" The young Romulan swallowed hard, his adam's apple sliding up and down his throat. No one on the ship could stand next to R'Nau for more than a minute without breaking out in a cold sweat. There were rumors rampant that she had slain more than one subordinate on mere whim.

"If the Captains are so wary, then we will assist them. Move us into transporter range." R'Nau waved her arm in dismissal.

"Aye sir." The young man bent in defference and hastily exited.

* * *

"We're nearing the far range of Starfleet's timeline for the operation, Captain." Data handed Picard a padd and returned to the forward conn.

"Understood, Data. I have faith in our Commander Crusher. Stay sharp, everyone." Picard tugged anxiously at the hem of his tunic and sat in his chair. Tense moments flew past as the bridge crew stood at attention.

"Whatever Crusher did, Captain, it's working." Five minutes later, Yar piped up from the back of the bridge. "The Warbirds are moving off to the far side of planet."

"Very well, Lieutenant. As soon as they're out of weapons range, beam down the first cache of supplies. On my mark, begin the second transport." Picard smiled. "Well done old friend, well done."

* * *

Howard's team descended on the first wave of supplies as soon as they shimmered into existence planet-side.

"Not a moment too soon." She was aware of Crusher's strategy in creating a diversion for the Enterprise – but it had come at a price. Casualties were pouring in from other parts of the planet. They were hemmoraging people. She'd heard rumors that the Romulans were about to ship in thousands of reinforcements. And if that were the case, she and the rest of the Federation troops on Aeron V were about to meet their maker.

"Get this into the tents and get it distributed." Howard nodded to her people and turned to Crusher. "This Captain Picard's a punctual character."

"You can set your watch by old Johnny, that's for sure." Crusher turned. "I trust you've got everything in hand, here, Beverly?"

She raised an eyebrow and gave Crusher a stern look. "I'd say I've got a lot of things in hand, Commander."

He grinned and winked. "I guess we'll see about that later, Doctor."

They smiled at each other before turning back to their duties. It had been little more than a week since they'd had dinner by the lake. Howard had found Crusher amusing and charming – that night and all of the following.

"Jack." Beverly's tone was serious, and Crusher noted the change. "We needed these supplies. But I don't think they're going to be enough to deal with the cost we sustained in personnel to get them." She spoke quietly.

"I know Beverly." He walked over to where the Doctor stood and laid a hand on her shoulder. "I've sent word to Starfleet. We can't last much longer here."

"And what was their response?" Beverly's tone took on an agitated edge.

Jack's brown eyes darkened. "Hold position."

"That's it? Hold position? What the hell position do they think we're holding?" Beverly's eyes danced in anger and her hair fell into her face. She pushed it back angrily as the second wave of supplies from the Enterprise appeared.

* * *

"They're sustaining massive casualties, sir. I estimate that without aid the Romulans will take their command unit in another day." Yar looked down over the aft conn at Picard. "They're sitting ducks – it's only a matter of time."

Picard turned to Riker. "We can't leave Jack down there like that." Riker nodded his assent.

Picard looked back at Yar and Worf. "I want options. I want to get as many of those soldiers out of there was we can beam onto this ship." He turned to the forward view screen and tapped his com badge. "Picard to Engineering."

"LaForge here, sir."

"Mr. LaForge, in the next 12 hours, we are going to need maximum power for the transporters; and then we are going to need everything we can spare to the warp engines. We may need the phaser banks and the photon torpedoes as well. Do you understand, Commander?" Picard's steely grey eyes fixed on the forward view screen; a serene blue and green image of the planet below encircled in tufts of silver-white clouds.

"Sounds like we're going to be making some trouble, Captain." LaForge chimed in response, his tone light. "I'll see what I can do."

"Very good. Picard out." He turned to Data. "Mr. Data, I'm going to need you to get a message to Jack Crusher. A set of coordinates and a time. You will work with Lieutenants Yar and Worf, and with Mr. LaForge."

Picard walked to the aft and stood next to Commander Riker. "Number One, you'll coordinate the effort. They have at least 1000 Federation troops still down there. I want them all out by 0500 hours tomorrow."

Riker stood. "Aye sir." He inclined his head to Yar, Worf and Data. "You heard him. Let's get on it. Now." He stalked toward the observation lounge. The officers tapped briefly at their conns before swiftly following behind.

* * *

"I'm not leaving. These people are not stable enough for transport!" Howard slammed shut her tricorder and practically stamped her foot.

Jack grabbed her forearm, undeterred by her tantrum. "Oh you're leaving Commander, if I have to throw you over my shoulder and drag you out. It's suicide to stay here."

Their eyes clashed and sparks flew between them. "Take your hands off me." Beverly's blue eyes were crystalline and intent, her voice low and menacing. "These are my patients. I won't just abandon them."

Jack let go of her arm reluctantly, but stayed close. "I'll let you stay until the last transport. But you're beaming up to the Enterprise." He held up his hand as she opened her mouth to protest. "We'll send up all the patients, directly to sickbay. If they make it, they make it. I'm not going to leave them here for the Romulans." He spat the last, the thought of it souring his stomach. Beverly's posture had softened, but he could see she was still resolute. "That's an order, Commander."

"Fine." Beverly, enraged by the fact the Crusher was right, snatched up the tricorder and stalked off to where the medical personnel bustled to ready their patients for transport. Her blue jacket swished angrily behind her, emphasizing her agitated stride.


	5. Five

The Fog of War

Five

* * *

"They're on to us, sir." Yar looked over the aft rail to Picard. "Warbird headed this way."

Picard tapped his comm. badge. "Picard to Riker. What's the status, Commander? We're out of time."

Riker turned from the emergency transport padd in shuttle bay two and stalked over to the control panel. "We have one more transport sir. Apparently they're the most critical casualties."

Picard raised an eyebrow. "We don't have time Will. As much as I loathe the prospect, we've got to end this mission – now."

"I understand sir, but," Riker paused.

A new voice piped in over the comm. line, and despite himself Picard smiled. "It's Jack here, Johnny. We've got to get them up – our head of medical is down there, and she refuses to leave them behind. Trust me, it's worth the time." Will shook his head and returned to the transporter control padd.

"If you say so, Commander." On the bridge, Picard chuckled and turned to Yar. The scrappy blonde was hunched over the aft panel, furiously studying schematics. "You heard the man, Tasha. What can you give us?"

She looked up at the Captain, her blue eyes misty with concentration. She smirked and exchanged a brief glance with Lieutenant Commander Data. "We've still got a couple tricks up our sleeve, Captain."

"Then I would suggest you use them, Lieutenant." Picard turned and walked to forward opps, resting a hand on Data's shoulder, intent on the view screen and the field of stars. The Romulans were out there, and closing fast.

From the back Yar barked out orders to conn and opps. "Data, on my mark, I want you to lay down a small tachyon field in the coordinates I'm sending you. She turned Lieutenant Worf at her side. "I need you to begin massive particle accumulation in the bussard collectors immediately. Release them to these coordinates on my mark. If this works, the Romulans will think we're in the wrong place – long enough for one more transport."

Tasha returned to the study of her schematics. She tapped at her panel and opened a channel to engineering. "Geordi, I'm downloading something to you now. I need engineering to be ready. I'm maintaining an open channel."

LaForge responded, his voice skeptical. "I've got it Lieutenant. It'll be tough, but I think we can deliver."

Picard piped in. "You'd better, Mr. LaForge. I think I know what Lieutenant Yar is planning, and the timing is critical."

"You got it Captain. We'll do our best." Even over the comm. you could see Geordi's smile.

Tasha finally spoke to the conn. "Ensign Gateman, I'm feeding you a set of coordinates. I need you to be ready for my signal." Her tone was commanding but reassuring. The young woman glanced back over her shoulder and nodded – clearly nervous but clearly resolute. "Aye sir."

The doors to the aft turbo lift slid open, and Will Riker and Jack Crusher strolled on to the bridge. Jack walked forward and grabbed Picard, engulfing him in a quick but firm hug. "Good to see you, Johnny."

Picard smiled, nodded, and pulled sharply at his uniform top. "Commander Crusher." His wide smile belied his formal nature.

"So how you gonna get us out of this jam, Captain?" Jack smiled and glanced over Data's shoulder at opps.

"Lieutenant Yar has come up with something quite unconventional. I'm anxious to see how it turns out." He glanced back to his busy Security Chief. She looked up and gave him a terse smile in response. She glanced briefly at Crusher, who gave her a sly wink.

Riker smiled and shook his head. "Some things never change." He ambled over to his command chair and took a seat, indicating for Crusher to sit opposite at Picard's left.

"Perhaps we should all take a seat. I think we're in for a bumpy ride." Picard sat in the center chair, perched on the edge, waiting for Yar to give the signal.

"Data, Worf, Gateman, you ready?" Yar leaned forward, still punching at her panel. Both nodded distractedly, intent on their own work. "Data, I want the tachyon field distributed in 20 seconds, as soon as we're in visual range of the Warbird. Worf, I want you to discharge the matter/anti matter particles from the collector simultaneously. Gateman, as soon as the transport's complete, I want you to engage coordinates at warp 5, no more than 1 second after Data and Worf complete their orders. Stay course for 30 seconds, and then immediately engage the evasive maneuver sequence I've sent you at warp 4." Yar finished her calculations and began her countdown. "In ten, nine, eight….."

Picard rose as the warbird approached. Their cloak was holding, but it seemed a weak cover. The Romulans would be looking for them. Tasha's plan was a good one. The Romulans would misread their coordinates, at least temporarily mistaking the particles as residual matter from their warp core, weakly illuminated by the tachyon field. It would give them a tactical advantage and a head start on their way back to safer Federation territory.

"Four, three, two, one. Now!"

* * *

"We have coordinates for the Enterprise, Commander" The young Romulan at opps leaned eagerly forward. Finding them had been easier than she'd anticipated.

"Set course and ready weapons systems."

"Aye sir."

The Warbird moved through space, closing on what they believed to be the cloaked Enterprise. "Almost there sir, 10 seconds."

Moments passed as they stalked their prey.

Suddenly, the conn. officer piped up. "Sir, the Enterprise is de-cloaking in another location!"

R'nau snarled. "Lock systems and fire."

The young officer, now perspiring, responded. "They're out of range sir. Changing course now."

The Warbird turned and readied phasers.

"Sir, they've re-cloaked!"

R'Nau lounged in the command chair, her legs crossed. She knew that Picard had evaded them, sensed instinctually that this window of opportunity had passed. She tapped her fingers on her console. "Fool! Resume standard orbit of the planet. Aeron V is ours. Begin searching what's left of the Federation encampment for anything useful." She turned to her sub-commander. "Send a communiqué to the homeworld and advise them of our mission status. Have them re-divert the incoming troops elsewhere. We have no need of them now."

* * *


	6. Six

* * *

The Fog of War

Six

* * *

The doors of cargo bay two opened to reveal a frenzy of activity. Picard, Riker and Crusher walked in, avoiding busy medics bustling by. Compared to the relatively serene Cargo bay one, housing the remains of the military operation, cargo bay two was a study in organized chaos. Clearly in charge were Enterprise CMO Nina Stewart and a younger red-headed woman. Both moved quickly from bed to bed, stopping only to give orders to personnel who floated throughout the bay.

"It would seem things are well in hand here." Picard turned to Crusher. "Is this the Doctor Howard who refused orders to beam out?" The Captain inclined his head toward the swirl of red hair that flew past them on the far side of the bay.

"One in the same." Crusher's eyes followed the woman, lingering on her thin frame.

Riker shook his head again. "Same Jack Crusher."

Jack looked over and smiled. "Same Jack Crusher, different woman. Just wait until you meet her." There was little denying the glint in his eye.

Picard's eyes followed the woman as well, appraising her as a Captain would any subordinate. She was decisive, quick, and confident. A natural leader, her officers appeared well-trained and executed her orders quickly and without hesitation. Despite her insubordination, he admired the woman's obvious sense of compassion and dedication. While wasting little time, her expression was always one of compassion, and she never hesitated to lay a soothing hand on the shoulder or brow of a suffering officer. A different woman indeed.

"Don't blame you for looking, Johnny – she's a handful." Jack elbowed him in the side and grinned.

Picard gave him an unfavorable sidelong glance and tugged his tunic. "I think we can catch up with Doctors Stewart and Howard after things have settled down here." He looked over to Riker. "Have them report to my ready room as soon as they're available. Commander Crusher, you'll join me there now?" He raised a stern brow at Jack, but could not help but grin back at the exuberant Commander.

* * *

"We were outgunned, outnumbered, out-everything except out-smarted. It's the only reason we lasted as long as we did." Crusher replaced a heavy glass object he'd picked up from Picard's desk while pacing the ready room. The Enterprise was headed back to Federation space at maximum warp. Picard suspected that the Romulans had cut their losses and declared victory at Aeron V, but he was taking no chances.

Jack plopped down on the dark grey couch near a small observation window. Picard's office was efficiently lit, illuminated mostly by tactical screens that displayed current positions of key Federation starships.

"It's a credit to you, Jack" Picard was about to continue when they were interrupted by the door sensor. "Come."

Commander Riker stepped into the room. Behind him were Howard and Stewart, both looking haggard, their jackets spotted with blood and hair in disarray. Picard could not help but notice that even in this state, both women were striking. Though he rarely noticed younger women, and even more rarely women in his command, he could not deny there was something compelling about Beverly Howard.

"Captain, our CMO's." Riker stepped forward and the women stepped around him in front of the large reflective surface of the Captain's desk. Currently there was a three-dimensional hologram of the Aeron system revolving slowly in the air.

Picard stood and snapped it off, extending his hand as he walked around the desk. "Doctor Howard. I'm Captain Jean-Luc Picard. Welcome aboard the Enterprise."

"A pleasure to meet you, Captain." Her blue eyes flashed momentarily in acquiescence, then amusement. "I vaguely remember you from my days at the Academy. And what I don't remember Commander Crusher has been kind enough to fill me in on."

She held his gaze and his hand in a subtle challenge. 'She's sizing me up.' Picard found himself immediately disarmed. He cleared his throat and shot a steady look to Crusher and then Riker. "I wish I could say the same, Doctor. But I have heard very good things about you from Mr. Crusher."

"I didn't say he'd said good things – only filled me in." Beverly's eyes danced in bemusement. She often had this effect on men, and it pleased her to no end. But she never took things too far. Above all else, she was a physician, and a career officer – and she never wanted anyone to forget it. She smiled and laughed, instantly dissolving the tension in the room. "Only joking with you Captain. Jack raves about you. It's a genuine honor to actually meet you."

Picard returned the laugh, immensely enjoying the company of Dr. Howard, and already unconsciously searching for ways he might find to spend time with her outside of his ready room – and in an unofficial capacity. Immediately he checked his own thoughts. Clearly there was something between Jack and this woman – and he was her superior officer. It was unthinkable that he would approach her in any capacity. Quickly, he mourned the lost opportunity and moved on with the conversation. But not once had his gaze wavered from the intensity of her cobalt eyes.

"Clearly you have me at a disadvantage." He gave her his most charming smiled, and was rewarded with a softening of her expression. "Sit, please." Too late he realized he was still holding her hand. In what he hoped was a subtle gesture, he released it and motioned to the chairs in front of his desk. Crusher and Riker sat on the sofa.

"Are you in a position to give me a casualty assessment?" All business, he looked to Stewart, but Nina turned to Howard, and it was Beverly who answered.

"We weren't lucky. The size of the incursion was massive. It's my understanding that intelligence underestimated the number of Romulan troops. That cost us dearly in personnel. But with the refreshed supplies and the evacuation to the Enterprise, we've been able to save a lot more officers." Crusher paused and the Captain nodded for her to continue. She immediately noted that he preferred to let his officers present all relevant facts, and then fill in with his own questions. She's spent far too much time with arrogant superiors who constantly interrupted with questions and assumptions, and she appreciated his open leadership style.

"We lost only 200 in the last 24 hours. Normally our casualty rates for this size of a confrontation run up to 300 or 500 troops. Terrain, weather, and even time of day all affect our casualty rates. But given the fact that we were so severely outnumbered and at such a tactical deficit, I'd say we came out relatively clean." Beverly briefly glanced down and clasped her hands. Now staring out the view port behind Picard she finished her part of the briefing.

"Of course that means little to the families of those who didn't make it." Her look was hard and jaded. Though it accentuated her angular features, Picard found he much preferred her smile. She was in command of the details, her staff, and her bearing. Again, Picard found her…. compelling.

Shaking his inappropriate thoughts, Picard nodded and turned to Stewart. "Nina, what do you need from the Enterprise before we get to the Starbase? I can have another bay cleared if necessary."

The petite woman tapped the arms of her chair. Her black eyes were a sharp contrast to her short silver hair, and they were bird-like in their watchfulness. "We're currently treating 159 cases. They range from critical to minor. Those who are in the best shape can be released to quarters immediately. But we do need a smaller bay for the intermediate patients. There's too many for sickbay to handle, and we need the space for those patients requiring the most care." Her words were crisp and her diction clipped. Originally from Earth, she had grown up in the Northeast portion of the North American continent. Though small, she was an undeniable force on the ship.

Beverly looked from Nina to Picard. "Doctor Stewart and I also feel it would be best to keep sickbay at lower capacity in case we incur any trouble between here and Federation space." A veteran of the battlefield, Howard never took safety for granted – and she planned accordingly.

Picard stood and nodded. "Make it so. Commander Riker will see to it you have anything necessary." He walked around the desk and stood over Howard. "We estimate another 72 hours to Starbase 311. Let's hope it's smooth sailing until we arrive." He smiled and nodded as the officers left the room.

Crusher turned on his way out. "See you when you're off duty, Johnny?"

Picard winked back and smiled. "Of course, my old friend. We have some catching up to do."

* * *


	7. Seven

The Fog of War

Seven

* * *

Jean-Luc had to admit that it was nice having Jack around again. He was quick with a smile and a joke. Between Crusher and Riker, he was having a hard time maintaining discipline on the bridge. He had limited Jack's visits to no more than 15 minutes, and only once per shift. But after shift, the trio had practically torn down the walls of the Captain's quarters.

It inevitably brought back memories of earlier times, when Walker Keel had been the third man. They'd lost Walker a few years ago. He had been on patrol in what was then a hotly contested sector. After taking out two Warbirds and a Romulan scout, the Defiant had been spectacularly torn apart by an uncontrolled warp core breech. Walker had taken a Bird of Prey with him. The loss had driven the Romulans out of the system for months, allowing the Federation to reclaim much needed space and time. Crusher and Picard were both unspeakably proud of their fallen friend.

Now only a day away from Starbase, Picard was curious to know how Jack would be reassigned. He couldn't say he wasn't anxious for his friend. The tide of war was turning, and the fall of the Federation now a very plausible reality. Starfleet had initially been outraged that the Enterprise had overridden their orders for ground troops to hold position on Aeron V. But after learning of the approach of additional Romulan troops and the final casualty assessment, they had backed off. Picard had been quite passionate but coldly articulate and forceful in his dealings with the Admiralty, who often lost sight of what it meant to be on the ground. Troops had become numbers to them, measured only by wins and losses.

Almost on cue, his comm. screen blipped to life with an incoming call from Admiral Nechayev. Picard punched the keyboard and Alanna's severe countenance filled his ready room.

"Good afternoon, Captain." Her thin smile was cold, and clearly perfunctory. Worry lines etched the edges of her eyes and mouth.

"Good afternoon, Admiral. What can I do for you?" Picard brought a cup of Earl Grey to his lips.

"We're about to send a set of reassignments to the Enterprise. I'm calling to forestall any…. resistance on your end." Her brow lifted and her expression became fixed.

Picard slowly brought his cup and saucer back to his desk. His eyebrow arched. "Resistance?"

"We're shuffling some of your senior staff." Nechayev paused, considering the phrasing of her words. "It's no secret Jean-Luc. Things are growing dire for the Federation. We are now faced with impossible choices." She paused again as an aid appeared at her side and handed her a padd. She looked it over, frowning. When she looked up, her face was even more somber. "Reports from the Devron system. Devron III is falling to the Romulans. They have diverted most of their troops from the now uncontested Aeron V. The field Commander reports that we may not last the month there. Which makes this news harder to deliver."

Picard's own expression was now unmistakably grave, his hazel eyes a dark shade of granite. "Please continue, Admiral."

Nechayev met his steady gaze. "Commander Riker will be assigned the Challenger and sent immediately to the Devron system. His job will be to give aid to the ground troops on Devron III. He'll work with the Columbia to interrupt the Romulan supply lines, hopefully giving us an advantage."

Picard was sick. It was quite likely a suicide mission. "And this is the final decision from Starfleet Command?"

"It is. I'm sorry Jean-Luc, we have little choice." She remained cold, removed from the news she delivered.

"But this is madness, Alanna. If things have really gotten this bad, then it's time to negotiate a surrender. We're sending good people to their death – and a useless one at that." Picard's voice rose in volume, and he quickly checked himself, touching the console, his tea, and finally running a hand over his smooth head in an effort to regain control.

Nechayev leaned forward, Picard's emotion engaging her in the now heated discussion. "Don't you think we know this Jean-Luc?" She stopped, took a deep breath, and glanced around. She sat upright in her chair and lowered her voice. "This is off the record now, Captain. I'm telling you this because I respect you, and I trust your discretion."

Picard accepted the offering for what it was and nodded his agreement, urging her to continue.

"One month ago the President of the Federation extended an offer of surrender to the Romulan Chancellor. He sent what we felt to be rather generous terms, which maximized loss of territory but minimized loss of life. It was flatly refused." Nechayev waited in silence for response.

"And what were the terms of the counter offer?" Picard was horrified. The Federation had offered surrender a month ago? Clearly things were worse than even he believed.

Alanna nervously fingered a padd at her right hand before looking levelly at Picard over the light years. "There were no terms. The Romulans are not interested in negotiating a surrender."

* * *

"Commander Riker, you are to report to the Challenger as soon as we reach Starbase 311. Tasha Yar will be promoted to Commander and will joining you as First Officer. Commander Crusher, you will become the new First Officer on the Enterprise. Lieutenant Worf will be promoted to Chief of Security." Picard looked up from his padd to the assembled senior officers, all of whom were affected by the reassignments. Junior officers would be briefed by their COs at subsequent meetings.

"Doctor Stewart, you will return to your former position at Starfleet Command." Knowing what was to come, the Fleet had chosen to retract all their most senior officers from field posts. Picard himself had turned down a promotion to Admiral and a reassignment to Earth on his call from Admiral Nechayev. It was to be the last bastion for the Federation, and would be defended in what would surely be the final battle, at all costs. "Doctor Howard, you will assume the CMO position on the Enterprise, which will patrol the farthest reaches of sector 001. Any questions?" Picard surveyed the quiet room as the officers took in the changes.

Riker was the first to speak. He understood his assignment, and he would fulfill his orders. But damned if he wasn't angry. "Do they really think they can hold Devron with two Galaxy class ships and nothing else?"

Picard held up a hand, warding off Riker's justified anger. "There is no choice, Will. We just lost another ship in the Onari system. We are running out of options."

The meaning behind the words was lost on no one in the room. Each began to count their own blessings and assess their own lives – which seemed to grow ever shorter. Picard had not disclosed any of the details of his conversation with the Admiral. But these were Starfleet's finest – and they could read between the lines.

Seeing that his staff had little energy or will left to speak, he chose to let them off the hook. "Set up briefings for your junior officers no later than 0900 hours. We'll be reaching Starbase 311 at approximately 1500 hours. Dismissed."

The group rose slowly, each silent and reflective. Crusher and Riker both approached Picard, as Stewart and Howard filed out, exchanging a hushed conversation about the transfer of command in sickbay.

"Looks like we're back at it, Johnny." Crusher's own tone was subdued. He looked over at Riker. "I don't want it like this, Will."

Riker's blue eyes were cold and fierce. He knew what he was in for. But he wasn't angry at Crusher. He knew that Jack and Picard would fight for him until the last. "It's alright, Jack. Tasha and I will give them a run for their money." Will attempted his trademark cocky grin, but it lacked any real enthusiasm.

He turned to Picard. "I'd also like to request a promotion and transfer of Lieutenants Mikulski and Timor. They're the best, and I think we're going to need them." It was a hard thing to ask – it was almost a death sentence. But he knew there was a good chance they might not stay on the Enterprise either. Hell, the way things were, there was no guarantee of anything.

Picard grasped Will's shoulder. "I'll see what I can do, Number One. But I don't think it will be a problem." He smiled reassuringly.

The three stood quietly as the stars whirred past. Jack grinned, and clapped both of the other men on the back. "It's a long way to Tipperary, boys."

* * *

Onboard the Warbird Menak, orbiting Aeron V, a Romulan Lieutenant walked slowly into the dimly lit chamber of Commander R'Nau. "Commander?" He took another step forward toward the desk, her chair turned to him. "Commander?"

Hesitantly, he approached the chair and turned it to face him. As he did so the lifeless body of R'Nau slumped over and fell into his arms. Remarkably, it little resembled the Commander who had dismissed him only hours previous. The features were similar, but the face was etched with age lines, and her hair was now standard length and almost white.

Horrified, he shoved the body back into the chair and rushed back out on to the command bridge, calling for help as he did so.

* * *

Picard sat at the center of the bridge of the Enterprise, his new senior staff at each of their positions. Jack was seated at his right, and Doctor Howard his left. In front of him Data sat at opps. Behind him at the aft stations were Lieutenants Worf and LaForge. It was a fine crew, possibly the best in the Federation. There were to be the last barricade between the onslaught of the Romulan armada and Earth. Their destiny was uncertain. It may take months, maybe even a year before the Romulans advanced this far. But without a drastic change – without a miracle, it was simply a matter of time.

He and Commander Riker had said a heavy goodbye onboard the Challenger. Picard had escorted Riker over. Though resigned to his fate, Riker had nonetheless been proud of his new command and his crew. It had been Picard's honor to preside over the transfer of command.

Now headed back at warp three to sector 001, they would provide much needed supplies and aid to several neglected Federation colonies on the way. Supply ships were few and far between, and several settlements had been left without support for months at a time. He hoped that none had suffered any serious crises in the mean time.

He looked over to Jack. It was good to have him onboard. It lightened Picard's heavy spirits. He surreptitiously turned his glance to Beverly Howard. Though preoccupied with thoughts of war, he found himself distracted by the compelling young physician. Guilt washed over him and he immediately returned his gaze to his control console.

One thing was certain – there would be plenty of adventure in store for the Enterprise.

* * *

End

Echoes of Destiny

Episode One

The Fog of War

* * *


End file.
